


The Ghost and The Necromancer

by Multiduel



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cole (Dragon Age) Being Cole, Gen, How Do I Tag, I wrote this in an afternoon, Short & Sweet, graveyards are cool hangouts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:42:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27177382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multiduel/pseuds/Multiduel
Summary: This was a fun short to write even though nothing happens.It case it wasn't obvious I'm a sucker for heavy place description.It's been a while since I've posted but fear not, I ain't dead yetI've got a longer fic in the works, that I hope to get up soon
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	The Ghost and The Necromancer

Dorian grew impatient leaning against the open doorway of the small merchants shop in Redcliffe village. He’d been waiting for what he deemed an age for the Inquisitor to finish whatever deal they were making inside. All around him, people bustled about continuing with their lives, pacing too and fro, clutching various baskets and piles of books. Children ran about, chasing one another with a kind of carefree abandon they’d surely lose as they grew. The atmosphere of the little village was very different to when the mage had first arrived here several months ago. Then the land had been gripped in fighting and fear. Mages and templars alike throwing themselves at one another for the promise of freedom, not stopping to care who got caught in the crossfire. With the mages taken into the care of the Inquisition and the Templars being all but consumed by Corypheus and his army, the people of Redcliff were free once again to go about their day with less dread. 

There was a soft bubble of conversation that bounced around in the air undercut by the sound of small waves hitting against the docks to the east. The loud clang of metal stroking metal emanated from the blacksmith nearby, busy with requests for tools to mend what the war had broken. Dorian could smell the burning of the coals as it drifted through the air towards him, it wasn’t a scent he had been all that familiar with before coming to the south. Much of the weaponry in Tevinter was made of magic not metal, thus smithing wasn’t a thriving profession. 

Laughter rang out from a group of young children who were dancing around each other beneath the large stone statue that stood proudly in the center of the town. Sitting atop the statue was a small red-headed elf that was playing a gentle but lively melody from a worn lute that was resting in his lap. He seemed out of place but not uncomfortable in the middle of the human village. Dorian turned his head back towards where the Inquisitor was still leaning on the marchants table, talking in low quick sentences. Whatever arrangement was being made, it didn’t look to be over anytime soon. Dorian rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically, trying to pull attention to himself. The herald looked over their shoulder, and flashed him an apologetic grin before turning back towards the merchant again. Dorian scowled and huffed, pushing himself up off the doorframe and beginning to make his way further into the village. If he was going to be made to stand around all day, he was at least going to have a look around. He hadn't had much time to explore the village on his first visit here, too occupied by the whole “my former mentor is playing with time magic that could rip apart the fabric of reality” thing. 

Moving away from the store, Dorian walked around the stone statue inspecting it carefully. It was worn with age and had various mosses growing out of small cracks in its surface. He raised one hand and let his fingertips brush lightly across the stone, feeling the cool of it seep into his skin. The statue itself was of a large griffon, complete with piercing eyes and wings intricately carved with feathers. Dorian dropped his gaze to read the plaque affixed to the front of it. 

_Here stands a testament to the Hero of Ferelden, the brave soul that died so that the blight was defeated. We honour their courage and their sacrifice._

Dorian vaguely wondered what the Hero would say had they still been around to see the statue built. Personally if he ever had a statue to honour his memory, he’d want it to actually depict his likeness, rather than some long extinct beast. Maybe that was his ego talking. Shuffling above him had the mage straightening up and casting his gaze skyward. The small elf was still sitting on the statue, looking down at him with interest, green eyes flashing with curiosity. Dorian gave him a small smile and a nod. The elf grinned back and struck up a tune on his lute again, the notes jovial and airy. Somewhere to his left, a clock tower chimed the hour. It was beginning to lean into the latter part of the day,and Dorian noted he had not yet eaten. Too busy being dragged off to the middle of Fereldan for no apparent reason. He wondered if he was just brought along for company more than anything. This notion didn’t bother him, in fact rather the opposite. It was pleasing to know that he was wanted for more than his magical abilities. Some might consider it strange, but it had been a long time since he’d ever felt anyone considered him a friend rather than an asset. 

He pondered this thought as he wandered slowly through the tiny market, pausing in his movements every so often to allow someone to pass him by or avoid tripping over a gaggle of children. He strolled down the stone steps towards the docks, the smell of fish and saltwater assaulting his nose as he did so. There were men shouting at one another as large hauls of fish in nets were dragged off fishing boats that at first glance seemed too small to have possibly carried them. Dorian kept his distance from the stinking cargo, opting to watch as the men barked out orders and argued over prices. Considering everything that was going on outside the walls of the village, the place seemed strange. Like it was a page from a different story that had found its way into the wrong book. Normality was a luxury these people didn’t seem to know they possessed, not until they lost it anyway. Looking away from the boats, Dorian spotted a small stall, tucked up next to a wall that he hadn’t seen before. He sauntered closer to get a better look. There was a dwarf leaning against a huge stack of books whilst inspecting the pages of another. There was a small low wooden table, that was practically overflowing with books and papers. Dorian leaned over the table when he reached it, inspecting its contents carefully. Some of the tombs were visibly old, leather bound and worn with age and use, their pages yellowed and curling inwards. A number of scrolls were lined up neatly, each one tied up with a brightly coloured ribbon. There were loose pages fluttering about across both the table and the floor. Dorian bent down to pick a few of them up out of the dirt, quickly surveying them as he did so. A couple described weapon enchantments for swords and daggers, one was written in a language Dorain had never seen before. He wondered if the dwarf would be able to tell him. He stood up ready to ask but was interrupted by two young women who had saddled up to the table next to him. They paid the mage no attention, too enraptured by their own conversation. 

“I’m telling you Mae, it was surely a ghost!”

The first woman was slight, with cropped blond hair and large round eyes. She was wringing her hands together and kept glancing over her shoulder as if she expected someone to suddenly be there. 

“Honestly Gillie, you and your stories.”

The second woman looked older but not by much. She had ashy brown hair that had been neatly plaited and ran down to just above her waist. She seemed only half invested in the other woman, running her fingers idly over the cover of one of the books infront of her. Gillie stomped her foot against the dirt and scowled at her friend. 

“I’m not making this up, it was sat amongst the graves, pale as the moon with eyes that looked right through me.”

Mae sighed and dragged her eyes away from the book and towards the woman. 

“How do you know it was a ghost? Maybe it was just someone visiting a deceased relative?”

Gillie venamintly shook her head, her hair flicking across her face. 

“No living person looks like that. It had a hat that covered its face, but when I called out, it looked up and I swear it’s eyes were _glowing.”_

Mae laughed and turned away, beginning to walk back towards the main part of the village. 

“A ghost in a hat? Now you really are being silly.”

The younger woman chased after her friend, protesting all the while. Dorian returned the pages he was still holding to the table and turned away, no longer interested in deciphering them. He tilted his head to look towards the way the women had come from, a small set of stone stairs carved into the wall that led up towards the chantry. He was almost certain of what he would find, but decided to go and investigate regardless. It wasn't like he had anything particularly better to do with his afternoon anyway. 

Dorian reached the top of the stone stairs and looked about. Straight ahead was the small path leading up to the chantry, still under repairs from the damage the rift of demons had caused. To the left was a narrow dirt path that led around the side of the chantry to a small graveyard. Dorain only knew this as it had been his entrance and exit to avoid detection when he’d first arrived in Redcliff all those months ago. Now it seemed, another member of the Inquisition was lingering there, although why Dorian couldn’t be bothered to try and fathom. 

He pushed through the small metal gate that was clinging on by a single hinge and walked the few paces it took to reach the center of the gravesite. It was a small space, only a few dozen graves scattered about unevenly. It seemed as though no-one had been buried here for a long time, many of the gravestones were faded and cracked. Some were completely obscured by plants and overgrown grasses. The chantry building cast a shadow over the area, leaving it dingy and the air cool. Not a place for a young woman to be. Dorian wondered why she had been here in the first place. He stood for a moment and looked about, the sounds of the village seeming further away than they actually were. No sign of any “ghost” by any rate. Dorian rolled his eyes at no-one and turned to leave the way he’d come in. As he spun around he almost knocked straight into someone who’d been standing directly behind him. Dorian stumbled backwards almost tripping on a gnarled root sticking up out of the ground. Breathing heavily, he regained his balance and glared at his new companion. 

_“Fasta vas_ , Cole how many times have I told you about sneaking up on people?”

The boy blinked at him and fidgeted on the spot.

“I wasn’t sneaking, I was always here.”

Dorian scowled at him, brushing his robes with the back of his hand to smooth out imaginary wrinkles. Cole watched him, still stood in the middle of the path, his arms dangling loosely at his sides. Dorian flicked his eyes up and down the skinny boy, and raised an eyebrow. 

“Although I doubt lingering in places you aren’t supposed to be is particularly unusual for you, may I ask why you’re here Cole?”

The spirit shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking about the small graveyard as if it might provide him with an answer. 

“It’s quiet here.”

Dorian shook his head and placed a hand on his hip.

“Not in the graveyard Cole, I meant why are you in Redcliff?”

The spirit blinked at him but didn’t answer. Dorian waited but the boy didn’t seem to want to respond. 

“I don’t recall the Inquisitor inviting you to join us, nor do I remember you at all on the journey down here.”

Cole dropped his gaze to the ground and stared at his feet, his face now obscured by the broad brim of his hat. Dorain removed his hand from his hip and crossed them both across his chest. 

_“Cole.”_

__

His tone was stern, like he was scolding a small child. Which in the strangest of ways, he almost was. Cole raised his head a little, strands of white blond hair peeking out from under the hat. 

“I wanted to help.”

“Help with what? As far as I can tell this is just an overly tedious shopping trip.”

Cole shrugged, then vanished leaving Dorian alone in the graveyard. The mage sighed and looked about, seeing if he could spot where the boy had gone to. He noted the top of the familiar hat peeking out over the edge of the gravestone furthest from him. Dorian played with the option of just leaving the boy here and going to find himself something to eat but alas his conflicting moral code prevented him from doing so. Sighing again, he walked briskly over to where the spirit was crouched. 

“If you’re going to attempt to hide, might I suggest you lose the hat?”

Cole didn’t look up, just stared intently at the gravestone as if it were about to bite him. His knees were drawn up to his chest, his chin resting atop them.

“I like my hat.”

Dorian shook his head and shuffled round so he could get a glimpse of the words carved into the stone. 

_Aeralie Mayer  
8:56 Blessed - 9:12 Dragon_

Naturally the name meant nothing to Dorian but Cole was staring at it with an unnerving intensity. Dorian crouched down so he was level with the boy.

“Did you know her?”

“No.”

Dorian looked between the gravestone to the spirit then back again. He waited for a moment before deciding to speak, but Cole beat him to it. 

“She came because she wanted to apologise like she had a hundred times before.”

Dorian waited for Cole to continue. The spirit dropped his gaze to the floor and began to pick the grass with his bony fingers. 

“It never made her feel better, but she kept trying anyway.”

Cole shook his head, his hat shaking on his head as he did so.

“I tried to tell her that she was forgiven, that she didn’t need to come anymore but she got scared and ran away.”

Dorian smiled to himself and stood, carefully shaking the ache the crouched position had put in his knees. 

“That’ll be the girl I saw in the village, she thought you were a ghost.”

“I’m a spirit.”

“I’m not sure she saw the difference.”

“I was trying to help her.”

Dorian shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Maybe she didn’t want any help.”

Cole stayed where he was, still picking at the dying grass and flicking it away. Dorian looked over at the entrance to the graveyard.

“We should probably head back, hopefully the Inquisitor has finished by now.”

Cole didn’t answer, just stayed couched by the gravestone. Dorian watched him for a moment before nudging him with the toe of his boot.

“Cole?”

The boy raised his head, bright blue eyes meeting Dorian's gaze. 

“She will come back.”

Dorian raised an eyebrow.

“So you’re going to wait to frighten her again? Tell you what I’ll do you one better, why don’t I bring Aeralie here back up from the ground so she can pass the message on herself?”

Cole frowned and shook his head. He lowered his chin back onto his knees.

“You shouldn’t do that. They don’t like it.”

Now it was Dorian’s turn to frown. He uncrossed his arms and brought one to rest on his hip.

“I’m sorry, who exactly are _they_ and what don’t they like?” 

Cole unfolded his legs and ran his hands over the rough ground beneath him.

“They don’t like it when they’re woken, it hurts.”

Dorian froze for a moment before lowering himself back down so he was eye level with Cole.

“Are you talking about the dead?”

“Yes.”

“The dead don’t like it when I reanimate them?”

“Yes.”

“But they’re dead.”

“Yes.”

Dorian rubbed a hand over his face, settling himself onto the grass next to the spirit. 

“Clear as mud as usual Cole.”

He lent back on his hands and studied the boy who just stared back. Dorian hadn’t really had much one-on-one time with the boy but always seen him as relatively harmless as long as he stayed on the blunt end of the boy's daggers. Back home, he would be picked apart bit by bit to see how he fit together. A spirit that didn’t need a body and could influence people's minds on command? Cole wouldn’t last an afternoon in the Imperium. Cole suddenly pulled a face like he'd tasted something sour. It took Dorian a moment to realise he’d likely seen what Dorian had been envisioning. 

“That'll teach you to poke around in my mind. “

Cole pouted and looked back at the gravestone. The two sat in silence for a long moment before Dorian broke it.

“Do the dead really know when I reanimate them.”

Cole didn’t answer for a moment and Dorian was starting to think he wasn’t going to when the boy turned his head back to look at the mage again. 

“Not the bodies, the spirits. They can feel it pulling, like being split in two and walking in both places.”

“Right.”

Dorian stared at the floor for a moment, then down at his hands. He’d never really put any thought into his necromancy before. Not in the sense of it doing any harm to the dead. They were _dead_ after all. For some reason the thought unsettled him, leaving a bitter taste in the back of his throat. He rubbed his hands together, feeling the familiar hum of magic beneath his skin. 

“Is there a way to use necromancy, without hurting the spirits?”

Cole shrugged.

“I don’t know.”

Dorian sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 

“Something to look into perhaps.”

He pushed himself up off the ground, carefully dusting stray bits of loose grass and earth from his robes. He extended a hand down to Cole who had watched him get up. 

“Come on, let's get back and find the Inquisitor, no doubt they’ll be confused to see you.”

Cole looked back at the gravestone and Dorian sighed.

“Just leave it Cole, you can’t always help everyone.”

Cole stared at the gravestone before taking the offered hand and slowly getting to his feet. Dorian checked the boy over before turning away to start down the path to the exit and after a brief moment, Cole followed.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a fun short to write even though nothing happens.  
> It case it wasn't obvious I'm a sucker for heavy place description.
> 
> It's been a while since I've posted but fear not, I ain't dead yet  
> I've got a longer fic in the works, that I hope to get up soon


End file.
